Multicolored Mirrors
by Thordis Valentina
Summary: The events of Kingdom Hearts through the eyes of Sephiroth and Zack.
1. Prologue

This actually started off with the intent of being an oneshot, but it sounded like a perfect prologue, so I came to the conclusion to convert it into a multi-chapter story and replace that other story I had in mind.

**EDIT: **I did some editting to crop out some of the plotholes I found while reading over this file on my computer.  
**EDIT (ver. 0.1):** Had to edit yet _again_ because has a bunch of morons who can't seem to get the system to accept simple symbols which I regularly used to indicate scene change or even the classic (...)s. Their excuse? It's just incredibly difficult to manage a simple (...). Yeah sure I "really do hear" you on that, but I can't help but wonder, how is it that you guys can manage the (...)s in the text, but your system can't seem to pick it up when it's standing on its own. Well, this isn't the place for a rant. If you want to hear anything of the sort, click on the link to my profile for access to my LJ. The rant is coming very soon.

**Multicolored Mirrors**  
_Thordis Valentina_

**Rating:** PG-13 (T)  
**Genre:** Action/Adventure  
**Pairings:** N/A (For now)  
**Summary:** The events of Kingdom Hearts through the eyes of Sephiroth and Zack Fair.  
**Disclaimer:** Wait! I never said Sephiroth or Zack were mine! Go away Lawyers! Shoo! Back I say! _BACK!_

* * *

**- Prologue -

* * *

**

_I can see my face very clearly against the surface of the mirror. It is smooth and perfect like that of a statue so I reach out and stroke the silvery surface. Though my hands are gloved, the coldness seeps through the tough leather and sends shivers down my fingers and up my arm: they are shivers of which I cannot control._

_Standing there, in this world of mirrors, I gaze at my reflection, at my pale skin, angular face, the glassy green eyes, and the curtain of silver that streaks off my shoulders in greasy and stringy sheets. It has been so long since I last washed my hair and I cannot remember if it has grown out or not. Looking in on my battered self makes me want to cringe because so much has changed from what I once was. Something about me is off but no matter how long I search for the answer, I cannot find it._

_So I lean in and my eyes narrow slightly as I squint and scrutinize: to catch that mar, that imperfection which I think I've seized earlier. Yet no matter how long I search the features of a hollowed-out man staring back at me, caked in dried blood that isn't his, the answers do not come. It is difficult to comprehend how the rusty-red came to smear across my cheekbones, jaw, and neck; nor can I explain how it got into my hair. But it is there and for some reason I feel apprehensive as if the blood that cloaks me was something that was not supposed to coat my fingers and arms._

_I want to believe that the blood got on me because I was trying to help a dying person, but a little voice at the back of my head tells me otherwise. When I look down at my hip for a confirmation from my Masamune. It is not there. Even so, I am aware of the unawares. My conscience knows and my sub-conscience knows even more. Little-by-little it eats away at my rationale._

_Wherever it is I am in, I cannot tell for sure, because it is dark here and there is no light to brighten my barren heart, only a small bit of silver glow emancipating from the great walls of looking glasses. On these, I can see my duplicates slithering across the glowing surfaces and my anticipation heightens more than I can control myself. I see and feel my body shaking, and my eyes are sunken and ringed with dark spots. Most of all, the stench that rises off me is abominable._

_There is nothing in this world, which I want more than to soak into a hot bath and cleanse all traces of my transgressions. But sinners such as myself are not given the privilege of repose. Somehow, I had lost my way and crossed the line that sets right apart from wrong. All the thoughts of the steaming waters and the lathery soap with which to wash off my darkened history become nothing more than a mere coveting of mine. _

_Who I am today is no different from a madman, a serial killer who enjoys the bloodlust. The only difference between these foul creatures and myself is that I cannot remember what it was that I did. All I can do is assume the worst because the stench of death rolls off my shoulders and I can almost taste the darkness on my tongue. It smothers me because I cannot accept it. I like to believe that I was far too strong to succumb to it and this was merely a test I have to pass…_

_Complacency._

_I wonder: does this put me on a completely different level? Does it better my position or does it make me a monster?_

_Closing my eyes, I pause with one hand covering my reflection's face because I cannot bear to look at it. Something in them haunts me. Is it guilt? Anger? Sorrow? Despair? Fear? Hate? It is difficult to fathom. Trying to make sense of what was right and what was wrong of my unknown circumstances gives rise to a migraine into my already throbbing temples. Then does this mean that I am only dreaming? I cannot tell._

_Although looking at who I am now disgusts me, I want so desperately for this to be a dream and I need my confirmation. Slowly, my eyes crack open again with the vain hope that I might be lying in my bed with the sheets tangled around my legs. Maybe I might be on the floor of my home and Radiant Garden would be slipping into the early stages of twilight…_

_Disappointment._

_Between the cracks of my fingers, I catch my eyes staring back at me. They are empty and devoid of the vitality they once held._

_I am still here and slowly, and though it is not all of it, some of the events of what had passed are rushing back to me. What I remember now is that everything I once had was striped away from me. The darkness took it all away and then offered the medicine with which to cure myself. I was furious and I hated it, but accepted the proffered power it brought with it because I was too weak to stand on my own two feet. The blood that coats me is the fruit of my inability to control my anger. It is the blood of friends whom I trusted but slaughtered without a moment's notice. It is also the blood of the people whom I tried to save. It is the haunting shadow that I let my anger consume me._

'I am a fool.'

_I try to laugh out loud, but my voice comes out in dry, cracked hackings._

_My sanity teeters on the edge ready to fall over and shatter into a million pieces against the rock-hard bottom. A small chuckle escapes through my compressed lips and it scares me because it sounds iniquitous and dark. I am a walking paradox: a hypocrite. I am a fallen hero with no hope for redemption. These hands with which I am trying to support my sagging body had both killed innocents and attempted to save them. So I avert my eyes to my toes, because gazing into my own iris and surfacing the truth is too painful a task to accomplish._

_That is when I feel it. There are icy fingers creeping up my arm as if to consume me and swallow me whole. Though I know that I am not the man I once was, I do not wish to fall into the darkness: I want to fight it and break away from its vise-like grip. My eyes fly to where my arm is still extended and touching the gelid surface. Instead of seeing my own face, it is distorted and blurred into a multicolored mirror. I witness the lustrous mirror slithering up my arm like a molten metallic snake, except it is cold. The coat I am wearing does little to protect my warmth. It is, after all, tattered and dirty._

_My mouth is slowly falling open as it slithers under my sleeves and I let out a cry that sounds alien to mine ears. There was never a moment in my life in which I was truly afraid and I hate myself for becoming what I am now._

_I try to pull away from the prying spindles of the semi-liquid, but its grip is stronger than anything else I have encountered. Despite my fighting its pull, I am drawn closer and closer to the argent surface. By now, my whole arm is submerged in this strange silvery liquid and I feel icy waters saturate my arm. I am face-to-face with the blobs of colors. Quite suddenly, they become pellucid and I can see my countenance twisted in terror._

_Seeing that, there is nothing more that I wish to do but to shatter the glasses with my fists and break them to relieve me from my overwhelming shame and the guilt that has mounted up to my crown._

_There is nothing I can do to stop my guilt from consuming me. Sometimes I wished I could have fought the darkness in my heart or merely accepted it and moved on, but I have realized that I was too weak and far too drunk on my own ego to put up a good battle. And thus I loosen my body and close my eyes, letting the silvery waves envelop me and pull me into a grave of multicolored mirrors where my sins are reflected at me and I am forced to re-watch something I cannot bear to look at again._

* * *

_When I awaken I find myself submerged in icy waters. Whether I am lying on my back or standing, or if I am dead or alive, I don't know. My hair billows around me flashing and winking as it tantalizingly waves in and out from my vision. Water bleeds into my clothes and douses me in its ice so that I feel as if I am sinking and drowning and living all at once. The invisible hands of waterlogged weight are pulling me deeper and deeper into my deep turquoise grave and I think I am sinking, but everything appears to be the same._

_I've stopped counting the time. How has it passed? Was it minutes that have elapsed since I accepted my wretched fate? No? If not, then perhaps hours or even days and weeks… months maybe? I try to shake my head, but it does not move. Should I be afraid? I do not care. Is this what death is like? I am slightly surprised because I was expecting something different, something more along the lines of eternal heat that is so hot that people's souls melt like butter left out on a sweltering summer's day, but their bodies are left to experience the burning and the wild pulsing of their blood winging through their veins, ready to explode at a moment's notice._

_I feel tremors run up and down my spine, but have grown so accustomed to it so that it no longer bothers me. The bloodstains have long gone, having dispersed like clouds of deep crimson and I cannot see anymore. They have faded into blue and are gone forever. My shoulders feel lighter as if someone had come along and lifted the heavy stones that had once laden onto them. In spite of this, my anticipation still lingers strong._

_The deep dark spider of unpleasant premonitions continues to crawl around my sub-conscience and my guilt had not faded because it is not over yet. My punishment will stretch out unto eternity and I will suffer and suffer and suffer until my body and my mind splinters into so many pieces I can never pick them up and put them together again…_

_Lost._

_I am truly lost. If I cannot destroy my sins with these murderous hands, then perhaps—given that I can move them—I can use them to slit my throat and end my own life. The warm ichor that I want to see blooming like little puce poppies in this world of blue will be my sacrifice for all my misdeeds. I am willing to give up my life, but I know I cannot. My hip still feels light and it is truly unfortunate that I do not have my sword with me. Forcing my own arms to move up and strangle the life out of me is out of the picture as well for I am a cowardly fool and cannot live through a slow and agonizing death._

_My body feels heavy and limp as if an outside force had seized it and is controlling my body much like that of a puppeteer tweaks the strings on his marionette. There is little I can do aside from lying here and wallowing in my own self-loathing and my guilt._

_The lids are falling close now, and I try to move to rouse myself and fail. The world of blue nothingness fades into black, and my despair begins anew. I am sinking and falling lower and lower and lower into the darkness of my heart. This is something I do not want, something I want to pulverize, but it is intangible and thus impossible of breaking. Yes, I admit that hate it, but what else is there for me to do?_

_There is no redemption for the likes of me. If this is my punishment, if this is the cross I must bear for having become the malicious man that I am today, then I will suffer the consequences of what I have done and let it destroy me._

**/endprologue/  
**


	2. One

Because how people read the time and date the year and the days is relatively unknown in the KH universe, I'm going with the classic "1st Moon" concept and inserting a bunch of random numbers. Therefore please take note of the following:

There are **12 moons** in one year, working much like the twelve months used in the heliocentric calendar. **R****.** is an abbreviation of "Reign." Therefore, when I say **27****th**** R****.**, that counts the number of years that Ansem the Wise (abbreviated to ATW) has been ruling Radiant Garden. The spontaneous number (**2622**) serves as the year in which the event takes place. The first two digits were chosen at semi-random, but the last two signify the number of years in which Zack and Sephiroth have been living since birth (meaning, they were born on the **5****th** and **6th ****R. of ATW,**** 2600 **respectively).

**Multicolored Mirrors**

_Thordis Valentina_

**Rating: **PG-16 (T)

**Genre:** Action/Adventure

**Pairings:** Implied Tifa/Cloud/Aerith and Squall (Leon)/Rinoa

**Disclaimer:** Zack and Sephiroth or any of the mentioned characters (with the exception of Gerald and William) do not belong to me. Disney and Square Enix own them all.

* * *

**- One -**

* * *

"You basked in Zack's light  
To reassure yourself that you are not what you really are  
Thus, in the process, took away all that he had,  
Shattering this tawdry world."

- Anonymous (Chapter 2)

* * *

_5__th__ Moon, 27 R. of ATW, 2622…_

_**S**_ephiroth's eyes stung lightly. A thick sheen of sweat was beginning to build on his back acting as an adhesive to the inner lining of his leather coat. The breeze grazed softly against his cheeks, lightly upsetting the front of his hair so that they waved in and out of his view like two little flags spun with pure silver. In spite of his slight discomfort, he stood his ground, left hand hovering over the hilt of his weapon and his jade eyes keen like coruscating pools as they surveyed the seemingly empty field laid out before them.

While the front of his overgrown bangs danced airily, the thick sheets of his argent hair had been too long and heavy and barely moved, save for some of the finer stands that undulated lightly but not so much to relieve the mounting heat against his scalp and did little to cool him from the sweltering summer heat.

He could barely catch a glimpse of his adversary calmly making his way towards him through the ankle-deep grass that swayed, right hand fisted over the handle of his sword so that the point of his elbow stuck out at almost a ninety-degree angle.

For the briefest of moments all the sounds of the world—the rustling of the wind in the trees, the swaying of the bright green grass, the far-off cries of happy children and singing birds—siphoned away. It was just when Sephiroth could almost make out the details on the other man's face, that his opponent was coming at him at breakneck speed, his great and broad sword swinging out in perfect sync with his lithe movement.

A small amused smirk quirked at the corner of Sephiroth's lips. Instead of springing into action, as most people in his situation would have done, he chose to remain still as a statue and patiently awaited the perfect timing in which to make his move.

His combatant was just in front of him now: dark hair, black as night, fanning out behind him and lucid purple eyes gleaming with vitality. Sephiroth did not contemplate a second longer. Soon he was leaping off the ground, long hair rippling about him like a great wave as his gloved fingers curled around the hilt of his insanely long brand. With an audible clink, the clasps holding his sword in place loosened, unleashing the turbulent beast of his weapon in a blur of a silver crescent.

The assailant hardly waited a moment for he was propelling his own body into the air, both hands circling the bright red handle of his great sword. His blade was not designed for flexibility so he swung his weapon up in a straight diagonal motion aiming for Sephiroth's chest.

_CLANG!_

As the thin blade met its heavy-set opposite, there was a discharge of fierce sparks that broke passionately through the air and Sephiroth could almost smell the heat of friction as the two weapons twinned onto each other. Green eyes met purple and the two men exchanged another quirk of their mouths before they broke contact and leapt away from one another.

Flipping neatly in the air, Sephiroth's feet hit the ground with a dull thud. He braced them only to gather the potential energy into his legs before springing off converting it into kinetic. Boots hammering wildly against the moist earth like massive sticks beating against a great drum, he brought up his sword yet again. It was too long to whistle through the air, but he was too strong for the earth to halt his calculated movements.

Masamune bit through the heavy soil, its tip bringing up a trail of dark grass and soil as Sephiroth gave a mighty swing. Utilizing swift movements, he aimed the apex in a horizontal slash at his opponent's neck, but said man was equally as quick and parried in the nick of time before dropping on one knee and rolling off to Sephiroth's left before hurriedly leaping up on his feet again. He did not hesitate even for an instant and sprang forth, his blade in a tow.

Another ferocious clang resonated over the open field.

This time, the duo held their positions, muscles straining as they pressing in on each other, their eyes locked and burning as if daring the other to loosen his grip first. Seconds trickled away into minutes. Neither of the two slackened his grip and when the impregnated silence had stretched out longer, it was quickly broken by a very loud rumbling noise. The vehement flare in his combatant's eyes sputtered and died quickly succeeded by a blank countenance reddening like a tomato. Reluctantly, his adversary loosening his grip (Sephiroth followed suit) and backed away with an apologetic look on his face.

"Man, I'm starved!" He muttered flashing Sephiroth a cheesy grin as if trying to alleviate the awkward situation. He drove the vertex of his broad-bladed sword into the earth only so that he could straighten his form and rub his abdomen with one hand. "Sorry to cut our sparring short, but I think I'm gonna have to eat something."

"If that is what you want," Came Sephiroth's terse response and he expertly dropped his guard and settled his sword back into its unusual sheathe, "After all, I could use a shower."

"With that pretty hair of yours, I'm sure you would. Don't want to scare off all the ladies with all that sweat and grease dripping out of it."

"How amusing, Zack."

"Hey, don't take it so personally, _General_ Sephiroth." Zack grinned good-naturedly at his reaction. "I was just messing around with you—that is, if you didn't catch on earlier."

Wrenching his weapon out from the ground, Zack swung it to his back and reattached it to the heavy-duty sensory plate attached to the back of his knitted sweater. Placing one of his hands on his hip, he jabbed a mock-accusatory finger at his friend. Sephiroth snorted as he started down the grassy bank, his sparring partner following directly behind him. "Oh I comprehend the subtle significance of your words very well Mister Fair."

Jogging to catch up with Sephiroth, Zack landed an amicable blow to his upper arm. When Sephiroth did not react, he slapped his palm on his forehead and rolled his eyes as if to scold himself. "Right, I should have thought about that! Everyone knows that the great Sephiroth's field of humor does not lie in friendly punches!" He broke off from his speech and paused, one hand still covering part of his eye as they roved off to cast his friend a sidelong glance. His wide grinning remained frozen on his lips.

"Humor was never my strong point, _foot soldier_."

Zack's mouth fell open as he dropped his arm. "Hey, now that was uncalled for! And it's not like I'm that low on the scale either." Sephiroth offered a partially sardonic quirk on the right corner of his mouth. "Someday, I'm gonna shed my position as Lieutenant Colonel and come climbing up to your level so I can rub it in your face that you're not the only best man Radiant Garden has to offer."

"Indeed. I am fairly positive that, at the rate you're moving in, the dream will come true someday."

"Whoa, whoa, _whoa!_ Did I just detect a bit of sarcasm there?" Sephiroth said nothing, his enigmatic smirk still plastered on his face. "No? Then would you call that look on your face? Wait a sec, you're hiding something from me, aren't you?"

"Says who?"

"Don't give me that crap. You almost never give out words of encouragement like that unless…"

"And your point is?"

"My point is that I want you to spit whatever it is you're hiding."

When Sephiroth remained silent, Zack frowned slightly. The two compeers set off down the hardened earth pathway, the sun beating its brilliant rays on their backs as they made their way along the winding road that descended a steep hill. After their prior conversation, neither of the two spoke or uttered so much as a breath. The only noise came from their feet thumping dully against the flat stones that served to create a long set of stairs. This trail slowly evened out and led them through a field of wild daisies before they reached the main gate with its massive wooden doors pushed wide open, happily accepting anyone into Ansem's kingdom.

"I'm still waiting you know. I may not be as exalting as you in the intelligence department, but that doesn't make me stupid."

"Very well then, if you must know, I'll give you a hint."

"Hm," The dark-haired man paused and pondered on this for a little while, "Sounds fair enough. Alright then, shoot it."

"You'll find a surprise at tonight's assembly."

Mouth dropping, Zack fell to an abrupt halt. He gaped at Sephiroth's retreating back as he continued on through the thinly populated residence district.

"No way!" He called after his companion, "You mean I'm gonna be a Colonel?"

"If that is how you like to describe a promotion, then I suppose that is another way of putting it."

"Sweet!" Jogging after Sephiroth again for the second time that day, Zack spoke between beams. "It was you who recommended me, wasn't it?"

"You are adept with your weapon and you possess great ardor towards the welfare of Radiant Garden, yes. I did not nominate you simply because you are my friend but because you have the skill and the determination."

"Aw, how touching."

They broke out of the maze of three-story houses and found themselves in the great opening that was known as Radiant Garden's marketplace. People of all kinds were milling about. Some chattered gaily away with their companions while others chose to meander from shop to shop on their own. Sephiroth and Zack stepped straight into the heart of the crowd and casually ambled along.

Carefully pushing their way past all the women and men moving to and fro, they stepped around the giggling children that zigzagged their way past their elders engrossed in a game of tag. Some of the inhabitants of Radiant Garden paused to gawp at the duo, some of the girls giggling when Zack flashed them his signature roguish grin while others blushed and snuck glances at the more intimidating Sephiroth.

"Hey, now that I think about it, I don't think I have anything in my fridge back at home."

Sephiroth sent Zack a wry look, though he was initially amused with the sudden change in his friend's attitude. Of course, Zack was almost always effervescent and optimistic at the very least. But after having revealed a piece of particulars he initially intended to keep under covers, Zack's usual energy had quickly switched over to being slightly cheeky. Not that the general was so innocent himself, but his friend took his overconfidence up to a rather outgoing level. It was a bit of a handful for Sephiroth, especially as he was a man who preferred hiding his ego behind a curtain of mellow dispositions.

In spite of his slightly childish demeanor, Zack was a very good friend and a person who was competent and reliable—both inside and outside work. Odd as it may have sounded to the others, the lieutenant colonel had always been a stilt for him.

Shaking off his thoughts, the other man trained his attention back to the current circumstance. "Instead of languishing after anything pretty thing that wears a skirt, you can simply get something at the mess hall." Sephiroth pointed out stolidly as he shot the colonel a sidelong glance.

"That's right!" Zack smashed his fist onto his palm as though he had just remembered something very important. "Forgot about that one."

When they had reached the far end of the Marketplace, they parted on their ways. Zack towards the mess hall where his other friends awaited him, and Sephiroth towards his home where he would shed his black trench coat and get into something cleaner. While the other raised a hand to wave him off, Sephiroth nodded and turned away from his friend, moving quickly through the narrower streets towards his home.

From their position in the upstairs windows, flowers bloomed in a brilliant explosion yellows, reds, and purples, some climbing out from their little beige boxes and scaling along the bleached walls. Their heavy perfume rose pleasantly in the air, signifying that summer was now in full swing. A small self-content smile crept its way onto Sephiroth's face as he started to pass two old men seated on ground level playing a game of chess. One of them caught his shadow and looked up.

"Ah! Mister Seph'roth, is it?" The man facing him grinned, his grey mustached upper lip curling up to reveal a now of not-so-perfect yet fairly clean teeth. "Does that Masamune of yers need a bit o' tweaking?"

Out of sheer politeness, Sephiroth paused and crossed the short expanse between them so that he was standing between the two players. Casting a quick glance at his sword on his hip, the General shook his head. "No Gerald, she appears just fine; perhaps later. How goes your blacksmithing this mid-morning?"

"Eh, with the war over and all, business is slow."

"Hee-hee," Gerald's companion chuckled his unshaven face unfolding with poorly restrained glee, "If yeh weren't as clever as me, yeh'd be given the honor of seeing the hero's face more often than not."

"Baking bread and makin' cakes fer the young'uns ain't my way of living, Will. 'Sides, I ain't talking 'bout bread with Mister Seph'roth. Anywho, if she needs some cleanin' an' preppin' th' door's always open."

"I'll commit that to memory. On a far brighter note, I believe you would be seeing Zack very soon. He was complaining about his Buster Sword growing rather rusty."

"Zachary Fair, eh? Haven't seen th' boy in ages."

"I haven't seen Zachary around me bakery either. That boy is a wonder, all that energy to chase pretty girls, but no time to drop by for a proper meal."

Sephiroth smirked at the thought of Zack and his smooth talking with the sparse female officers and could not help but agree with William's assessment of his friend. "Too true, but I believe Zack's energy comes from his optimism." With that, the younger man peeled back the open end of his right glove and gave his watch a quick glance. "Well then, I best be on my way. Please give your wives my regards."

"Alright, though I was gonna ask ya to a game of chess, I guess I'll let ya go for now," Gerald started to take William's queen. Nodding politely, Sephiroth began along his course again. "I'll wing ya into a game someday, boy!" The old man called out at the last minute, "Yeh juss wait!"

**x x x**

"So, I got the update on tonight's gathering and I take it that there's a lot that'll be going on tonight?"

There was the sound of tapping as boxes were stacked atop of one another followed by the scraping of something heavy being moved, but Sephiroth gave no answer. Zack did not feel particularly disturbed by the absence of his friend's response and chose to skim his eyes across the neat spindly cursive looping black against white.

Tonight, after having changed out of his standard uniform, he chose a formal knitted turtleneck of black and had replaced his dull pauldrons with a gilded spaulder over his right shoulder. The young officer had seated himself on the stairwell of Sephiroth's home and was pressing his back against the banister with the toes of his tidy black knee-high boots pressing up against the base of the wainscoting. Tracing the edge of an embellished white program with one gloved finger, he idly flipped to the other page.

There was a loud slam that erupted above Zack's head. Following this was a long silence and Sephiroth's voice finally floated out the opening of the trap door, rousing him from the dull haze of mindless staring at contents of his leaflet.

"You have the schedule with you, don't you?"

"Well, yeah I do."

"Then read it."

Though the warrior could not see his friend, there was still a light trace of amusement fringed about the edge of Sephiroth's voice—something only Zack was able to catch. He chuckled softly to himself.

"I already did. And apparently today is the date of Squall's graduation. Though he's is a bit lacking in the charms department, I guess he won't fare too badly on the field." Sephiroth grunted in response before loud clapping filled his quiet home. "You know, I wonder what it was about Squall that attracted someone as cute and sweet as Rinoa to him. As far as I'm concerned he's not the most romantic person in the world."

"And you're wondering why I'm still single."

"Umm… because to everyone, no matter how handsome and polite you are to them, Sephiroth will honestly and always stay asexual even long after he's six feet under?"

Zack's jesting was rewarded by coughing and hacking noises from Sephiroth.

"Do you truly consider yourself my friend, Zack?"

"Why of course I do! Besides, even if the closest you'll ever get to laughing is snorting, you still found that funny and don't even try denying it."

"Very well then. Seeing that you seem to understand me better than I know myself, I suppose there would be no arguing there. But to be honest, I couldn't care less about Squall's personal life. He is an adolescent boy simply going through a moody phase. That is all."

"Yeah, but I'm a bit worried that he might make more enemies than friends with that _I'm-too-cool-to-associate-myself-with-you_ attitude. I don't know about you but to me, he seems to be getting worse and worse with each passing year."

"That—Zack—will pass and I do remember a certain _someone_ had once walked Squall's path."

"Ooh, touché! Anyway, I guess you're right. Brushing aside the dramatic teenage life of Squally, I'm more concerned about that Cloud kid." The young man continued on as he dropped the pamphlet on his lap and adjusted his gauntlet before taking the piece of paper up again. "He's the only one who isn't recognized as an official military figure—heard him complaining about it to Tifa and Aerith."

Zack flipped the page once, but did not read its contents.

"You forget that Cloud originates from another world?" Sephiroth's velvety voice floated down through the opening. Zack could almost picture his compeer raising a silvery eyebrow in his head. "If my memory serves me correct, his mother sent him here only to attend Radiant Garden Academy."

"Well, I know that much. Then again, that doesn't stop Spiky from wanting to join the Military Service in his own world, huh?"

This time it was Sephiroth who had lapsed into another prolonged silence. The dark-haired man took it upon himself to change the subject.

"Hey what are you looking for up there anyway?"

"Something."

Sephiroth emerged from the small opening with a packet covered in wine cloth tucked under his right arm. Turning briefly just so that he dropped the trapdoor shut with a soft bang. Then he turned and gestured at Zack to clear him a path with a phlegmatic wave of his hand.

The Lieutenant Colonel complied by swinging his feet over the stair ledge and pulling himself to a stand before moving down the rest of the staircase, Sephiroth following close behind. When they reached the landing of the second level, the general swept off the bottom tread with grace that was almost impossible of a man and dropped the parcel on a nearby cabriole chair. He carefully tossed back his curtain of argent hair that had fallen in his way before bending over to undo the complicated knot in the center of the soft package.

Whatever it was that Sephiroth had carried down from his attic and was fiddling with, Zack could not see past his friend's back. Yet despite his itching desire to peer around Sephiroth's shoulder, the young officer knew how conscious the General was about his personal space. So he chose to feign interest in the final progression typed in at the bottom of the very last page of his brochure and instead struck up a conversation—for aside his exceptional fighting skills, bantering was something of Zack's special characteristics.

"King Ansem's Breakthrough? Haven't we got one of these on the message board this last week?"

"The King has apparently been reaping through many scientific breakthroughs." Came Sephiroth's calm response. He straightened his back so that he stood up straight and turned away from the chair. Draped over his arm was a long, heavy material, which Zack automatically recognized as one of Sephiroth's lesser-worn coats reserved only in the case of very special occasions.

"No kidding, but I can't quite remember what the King was working on this time around. I know that we have prosthetic limbs that works like that of a regular arm with the aid of magic, but what did he do now?"

"I was under the impression that the King was trying to create a full prosthetic body for the people who have serious physical injuries."

"Okay then, how's that supposed to work? I understand the concept of magicking fake arms because they don't require much from a user—but a full-body prosthetic? People are going to have to be professional _mages_ to pull that one off."

"That, I wouldn't know. Perhaps you might want to ask the King questions yourself." With that, Sephiroth gave the long black cloth a final dust over and held it up. A heavy trench coat with its high collar folded down dangled from his grip. Flicking his green eyes up and down the length of the ulster as though assessing what else to do with it, a slight crease of concentration formed between Sephiroth's eyebrows.

"Pfft! Nobody has ever seen the King in the flesh before—not even you who is pretty much one of the most accomplished person here. So how will I know if I'm talking to the right person?"

"You are forgetting Marshal Caraway. At any rate, I would suggest that the only thing we had left is to trust the King with all our hearts and assume he is doing the right thing for Radiant Garden."

"It's not that I'm losing faith in the King or anything. I think he's doing a great job so far, but don't you think he's becoming a bit… I don't know, isn't he being a bit cocky with all these findings of his? Not too sure about you, but I've been having this weird feeling in my bones."

"Ah! Has Zack finally begun to age?"

Zack responded with a faked eye roll. "That was lame, Sephiroth! Out of all the insults you can pick from that big brain of yours, you pull out the maturity card?" Grinning, he shook his head and gave a quick laugh. "Don't like talking about that whole _conspiracy_ crap that's been juggling around in the inns and taverns. It sort of gives me the creeps. Anyway, it's been a long time since I've seen that coat of yours. You sure it'll still fit?"

Shrugging offhandedly, Sephiroth pulled his arms into their respective places and pulled it up to his shoulders. Temporarily folding back the end of the sleeves, he pulled down the arms of white of his button-up dress shirt to smooth out the wrinkles in them before aggressively brushing down his coat again.

"And whudd'ya know, after two years of neglecting it fits! I guess I still have a few more years to catch up on all those lost inches, eh?"

To prove his witticism, Zack held the program a few inches above his head. This gesture was rewarded with a chuckle from his Sephiroth as he proceeded to wrapping a belt around his waist and adjusting the pauldrons he had pulled over his shoulders. Then, Casting a quick glance at the clock pushed up against the wall, he pulled his gloves on. The soon-to-be colonel took this as a cue that it was time to leave. Shutting his copy of the pamphlet, he folded it into quarters before shoving it deep into his pocket.

As the military officers made their way down the stairs to the first floor, Zack felt his stomach gradually swell eight times its original size. By the time they reached the first floor and were headed for the exit, it was almost as if he could barely contain himself and simply fly away with the wind into a brighter and better world; something he had been working hard for.

The sensation increased tenfold when they stepped out of Sephiroth's main entrance and made their way down the neat little stone steps. During the time in which Zack had been readying himself for their convocation, night had washed over Radiant Garden. The stars and the moon the hung in the darkened sky creating sporadic patterns and winked down at the peace-graced world. With every step he took, his excitement gradually increased. He had worked hard and waited patiently to bring himself to where he was now.

In Zack's eyes, the world had never been this perfect. Despite his difficult childhood, he had always kept his chin up, never letting his plight swallow him whole. All this time, he knew that as long as he continued stepping forward without letting his past grip his heels, he knew that life would not be any more complicated than it already was. It was with this philosophy of his that brought him this far, and the man who was barely over twenty years of age was not stopping. Zack had found his happiness through protecting Radiant Garden with all his heart and soul, and he was proud of all he had done to convert its entire population into one behemoth family of his own.

By the time he had pulled out from his thoughts Zack found that he and his friend had finally reached the entrance of the great assembly hall. His prior thrill had vaporized only to be replaced by overwhelming nervousness. He felt the dead weight of Sephiroth's hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Zack. You'll do fine." Nodding once and offering a wide grin, Zack sucked in his breath and took another step forward.

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**/endchapter**

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**Addendum:** I offer my apologies for the lack of action in this chapter, but more action is sure to come after the next few chapters. The first few are just a basic summary of Zack and Sephiroth's lives prior to the near-obliteration of Radiant Garden and during its collapse. So it's going to take a while before we get into all the fun action-y stuff.

Also, please bear in mind that though I plan on adding canonical elements, this story is completely independent from the original KH franchise. Therefore, there are characters, which I've decided to leave out. Terra, Aqua, Ven, and Master Xehanort are the few of the known examples. I am doing this because "Birth by Sleep" has yet to be released and I don't want to mess around with them until I know the story by playing the game myself. To make the long story short, this is really just an AU with a lot of canon elements.


	3. Two

Long time no update, yeah? If you want the honest truth, I was being pretty sloppy... not that my updates weren't always so sporadic to begin with. Anyway, here's chapter two and I hope you enjoy it

Edited: Mar.14.2009

**Multicolored Mirrors**_  
Thordis Valentina_

**Genre:** Action/Adventure**  
Pairings:** N/A**  
Chapter warning:** Extreme violence and complex insight on Sephiroth's character.**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own anything.

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**- Two -**

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"It's like attempting the Swing Dance underwater  
In Iron clad shoes… Well, obviously knowing you,  
That's like sticking a piece of cake in your mouth."

- Zack Fair (Chapter 3)

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_When I open my eyes again, I find myself lying prostrate on something solid, my left cheek stuck against what feels to be an icy stone of sorts. I try to stand, but my dirty waterlogged hair drapes off my face and back—like limp, grey rags—almost pinioning my limbs to where I have been resting. Grunting and tugging, I attempt to get on my feet. My body feels as though it belongs to someone else. The hands with which I am supporting the dead of my weight with feel alien and my spirit detached. Three times I try, then four, then six. Each attempt ends with miserable failures until I am too exhausted to try again._

_I lie still and train my eyes on the spindly cracks in the tiles. Then, as though someone had come along and cast a cure spell on me, a little bit of my strength returns. Weakly I drag my arms up and use my pallid hands to push me to my knees._

_The icy surface between the pads of my fingers is hard and I can feel the cold seeping through my gloves. It is difficult for me to remember where I am. I hold my hands up to my face to inspect them but my eyes are defocused and I see nothing more than a smear of crimson—all crimson, nothing but angry crimson. I flinch when I feel bitter pain blossoming across my arms. They feel numb and sticky with a mysterious liquid, whose metallic scent makes it all the more identifiable. I need not to try and squint to realize that I am coating in copious amounts of blood and something else. Something I've never seen before._

_Very carefully, I pull the heavy ugly drapery from my eyes and I force my shaking legs to a stand. Though I am still conscious, my eyes have yet to focus. There has been water in them for so long they sting horribly and I can scarcely keep them open. As my narrowed gaze sweeps across the blurs of dark colors there is a different kind of pain setting in just behind my eyelids, swelling and pulsing against my brain molding into a swirling vertigo._

_I stagger forward my hand instinctively flies out to grab something. There is nothing but emptiness and I stumble and nearly fall._

_Everywhere I look, there is only an empty black void stretching so far tiny electric fireflies dance in my vision. I feel alone standing here, and my desire to escape increases tenfold. My heart is heavy and racing quickly against my ribs ready to burst into mess of meaty scarlet ribbons. I raise my hands to my head so to hold my throbbing temples and am surprised I can clearly make out the stitching on my gloves. Turning my arms over I marvel at the inner light that enables me to view them. I wonder how is it that my body can emit light when my heart is black and tainted with the maliciousness of losing a heart? Did I lose my heart?_

_I'm not entirely sure. As of late, I'm never sure of _anything_._

_Just as I begin to lower my appendages, something is happening. Part by part, the darkness fades away. Tiny flames burst from dusty candles, igniting my surroundings in a paradoxically cold golden glow. Before I can stop myself, I find myself turning my head this way and that way as the chasm in my vision peels away to reveal a ballroom of musty and forlorn grandeur._

_My eyelids flicker and blink with the undisguised confusion etched into my features. For the briefest of seconds I cannot recognize where it is I'm standing. The great French windows swing open, granting the access of the sweet fragrance of summer roses and morning dew. They are familiar scents, so deep and meaningful yet too painful to grip in my calloused hands. Hidden away, locked deep within my heart, I can feel a part of me shrivel up and die. The spindly cracks on my mirror of sanity spreads a fraction of an inch. I tremble at the realization of where I am._

_I am in Ansem's immaculate palace surrounded by a forest of tall glimmering marble pillars shooting up from a vast ocean of patterned and highly polished stone tiles. Every detail in the moldings on paintings seemed to have been dyed a deep goldenrod color. It is magnificent, perfect as it was back in the day when everything was right, before it twisted out into something sinister. Why am I seeing this? I tremble again._

_There has never been a moment in my life where I felt so afraid and unsure of my next step. I turn my head back and stare into the infinite space of the chamber. There is nowhere to go save for eternal darkness. I know I fear it so and every fiber of my being right down to the heartstrings within my chest yearns to bask in eternal light._

_Training my eyes ahead, I take a step onto the open circular space, letting the gentle spring breeze sweep over my figure and mingle with my shameful stench of hate, fear, and defeat._

_Radiant Garden was always under the influence of a thick perfume of flowers. I remember that in every district and alley there lay the inevitable scent of Daffodils and so many other flowers of which have names I have yet to learn. Thinking about what had become of my home saddens me. Thinking about the things I've done to help destroy it makes me angry and I can feel the darkness in my heart increasing with each intake of the sweet air._

_Why is it that I am forced to stand in a place without the slightest inkling of what to do? What is the purpose? Is it to tantalize me, to mock me? To reopen the wounds that had not yet fully healed?_

_My fingers curl into tight fists. I am a fool, a farce, the village idiot whom everyone points his fingers towards to laugh and ridicule. If I were forced to choose between my watery grave and this, I would rather lie there unto eternity until my skin bloats like that of a hideous stuffed effigy. But knowing that anger begets more darkness, I swallow hard and attempt to control my wayward emotions. My fists tighten even more at my efforts because it is difficult for me to control my raging heart._

_As though to spur my madness, I can hear the echoing clap of feet tapping against the marble from behind me. My head snaps up and I whirl around to catch the perpetrator, the audience who has come to mock me about my shattered pride._

_There is not a person in sight. The confusion that once occupied the insignificant shell of my body is quickly replaced by unbidden terror._

_Perhaps I may be hearing things. So I try to shut out the sound, but it curves off somewhere in the distance and comes at me again, this time at my right. Hair slapping in my face, I wheel into that direction hoping to seize the invisible person. But when I look to where I heard the footsteps, there is no one, and the sound is now resonating behind me. I try to move as fast as my body will allow me. When my eyes land on that allocated spot, all I can find is the gilded wainscoting and the luminous splendors of the ballroom._

_Then, a voice whispers from nowhere, laced with venomous secrets through unseen speakers: "Sephiroth."_

_When I whip around my eyes meet the shadow of a man and in my surprise, I twist my ankle and hit the hard marble with a loud thud and a shattering crack. He looks to be everything that I am save for his icy blue orbs and his wings wringing from his hips and rising from his right. He is wearing a long coat—one that was once mine—that is sweeping in motion with his body as he uses my elegance to half glide to me. A sinister smirk twists into his lips like he is here to sneer my blasphemy. Blinking and completely befuddled, I stand. There is no one in this world who looks the way he does besides me._

_Slowly, my duplicate raises his arm, elbow straight with his hand spread out and palm facing down. Sable mist oozes from his gloved hand spreading and reaching to consume me. I know my sword is no longer there, but my hand flies to my hip out of habit. And for a fleeting second, I half expect to feel Masamune's smooth handle pressing reassuringly against my palm. My heart plummets at the hollow disappointment that rapidly fills my body and I can taste the nausea rise into my mouth._

_The sensation of helplessness creeps into my heart and infects my brain the ebony sensation slowly dyeing my mood darker than clothing I don. It becomes clear to me that I cannot cut down this duplicate with my bare hands. Quite suddenly the importance and the desire for my sword bursts through me. It is an absurd yearning that remains locked behind closed doors that have been welded shut. Then it occurs to me that he took my sword from me. It was this man, this manifestation of possibly my own darkness filled with everything dark and horrible: jealousy, anger, frustration, disgust, self-loathing, with a hint of self-pity._

_The black fog passes through me. I don't feel anything, not even the wetness that is usually present around vapor. Lips still curved with sinister delight, my duplicate leans in and asks: "Do you remember that night?"_

_His lips are moving, yet I cannot see the words pouring from them. His voice is detached from his throat and comes from the air. Though he does not laugh it is clear that he is enjoying the look of terror that is spreading across my face. My mouth is working furiously—falling open and closed like a fish out of water. I cannot formulate any words to answer his question. He pulls his face away from mine and spins on his heels, that one unruly wing slapping me across the face in the process. I tumble down and hit my temple against the floor with a ringing thunk._

"_Do you even _wish_ remember that night when we went berserk and slaughtered all the occupants in this room?"_

_Finally, my lips begin to form the words but my mind is so full of rage, the words do not fall from them. I can hear the blood winging through my head spreading color into my face and neck. The back of my eyes tingle and itch from irritation and my fingers are twitching. He does not wait for my response and speaks on. The sudden urge to kill rises from within me and I wonder if it is possible to squeeze the life out of this man._

"_Of course you don't, because you weren't there."_

_The confusion returns and my boiling blood settles for the moment. It is almost as if our minds are linked. I want to know how it is that he can read my thoughts so easily._

_Then slowly, the ballroom falls into ruin. The scarlet draping and curtains are torn and ragged and surrounding us is an endless sea of blood and bodies. Some of them are dismembered completely around the waist while others have been mutilated beyond recognition. Simply by looking at the cuts, I can tell that this is the signature of my own swordsmanship. I have been around death before, it caressed my cheeks and my hands in the form of armor and military uniforms. None of them wore tuxedos or dresses of a thousand colors. I feel my head reeling at the stench of rotting flesh that surrounds us._

"_This is our work!" A gleeful chuckle ripples through the morbid atmosphere. He throws his arms out in opposite directions, fingers stretching as far as they would go. I feel my skin tightening against my muscles. "Together we murdered so many innocents for such petty and selfish reasons."_

_Shaking my head, I try to get to my feet and slip on the wet blood coating the checkered floor. My hand flies out to stop the fall, but leather and ichor on polished tiles do not agree and I clumsily hit the floor with a messy slop._

_He does not turn around fully, but chooses instead to tilt his head back a little to catch me out the corner of his eyes. The corners of his sneering lips perk up even more. I cannot bear to watch my countenance transform into one of a madman. His mouth opens to form one word._

"_Watch."_

_As though someone had attached strings to all the corpses, they rise to their feet, arms and shoulders slumped at their sides and heads lolling uselessly as they march at me. They ignore my duplicate and pass through him like he was never there. They slowly lumber towards me. I can barely make out their eyes through the thick veil of hair that covers them, but I can see the hate shining brightly and it is directed towards me._

_As they near me, there is a great ripping nose that rises into the air like a horde of foul insects as their skin splits, much like that of a child tearing up a stuffed doll. Wisps of black vapor emerges from the seams of their cracking skin. It rises into the air, polluting it, corrupting it so that the grand golden hue siphons into an ugly purple and the air rots._

_My lungs feel as though they are soon to burst and collapse. I cannot breathe. The putrid air invades my throat and coats the inside of my lungs. I want to run, but they are all around me, their skin slapping onto the floor in the endless pools of violent red that runs down the walls and drips from my hair. The guilt is soaking into my scalp. It is slipping past my clothes and deep into my epidermis._

_Creatures—blacker than the night—slowly make their way towards me, gleaming yellow eyes set shallowly on their featureless faces radiating with an unquenchable thirst. Their black talons are poised and razed to tear through my flesh and rip me into a million pieces. They hobble towards me, yet I do not move. Fear roots my feet to the ground. The monsters are close to me so that I can reach out and touch them. Perspiration seeps from my pores. While they are short and appear completely insignificant, I feel despair sweep over me. Just over their heads, I see him standing with his back to me, head still tilted in my direction and that smile still stretched cross his face. Long at last, my voice finally makes its way through my blocked airway._

"_No!" I shout, "I didn't do this!"_

"_Ah yes, it was me, as it was Cloud and as it was you."_

_Cloud, Cloud… CloudCloudCloudCloud… I think I remember this person, even if I never really met him. Cloud Strife… I have seen this boy somewhere, standing around next to Zack and Squall. I remember him as a determined boy silenced by quiet alienation. He came from another world and Zack had told me that it was because he admired me. The name races through my mind, as I snatch at all the lost memories looming towards me as a raging tsunami. He didn't look like the kind of person who would perform this heinous crime. Surely I must have everything wrong. Would he truly perform such an atrocious task? I slowly shake my head. No, I cannot accept this._

"_Lies." I say._

"_Slowly, the pieces will all fall together and bring light to the dark truth. You will find that the destruction of this fetid world was caused by a single man, a man whom its people thought they could trust—"_

"_No!"_

_I feel one of the claws grip my arm, and wrench away from one of the creatures. They may have been squirming and dancing their grotesque dance before, but now they are reaching for me. I fight to tear one of the offenders off me and attempt to wade through the sea of blackness toward my duplicate yet to my disgust, I cannot move a step. He remains stationary and slowly lowers his arms as he turns to face me. The sick humor radiating off his face melts away only to be replaced by a look of boredom._

"_It was you who brought out the darkness in a little boy's heart, which lead to my birth and your initial destruction. Would you like me to tell you how it went? All those beautiful memories of your ruination have fled from your mind because you will not accept it—because you are a coward, a liar, and a cheat. Shall Sephiroth tell you the captivating story of a man who falls to despair and brings the rest of the people whom he loved down with him?"_

"I_ AM SEPHIROTH!" I shout and as if a miracle has unfolded, I feel a burst of energy shoot through my limbs as I am rushing through the ring of darkness, eyes focused on my duplicate, ready tear him from limb to limb. I cannot express the joy that surges and blinds me as I ram my fist into his jaw. His face jerks to the side, silvery hair splayed and arcing in unison to the sudden movement. He goes down and I follow with a flurry of blows on every part of his face that I can reach. When that proves to be unsatisfactory, I wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze._

_To my disbelief he regards me calmly on flat of his back the three raven wings spread out behind him and lightly curled at the ends. I am on top, pressing my palms closer together and pushing down with all my might—enough force to snap his neck. We watch each other's faces, his being eerily serene and mine probably raging with mad anger. I tell myself that he is not me. I force myself to convince me that he is wearing a mask carved from white marble and chiseled to resemble me: a fallen hero._

"You_ tricked them all!" I roar, "_You_ put me here! YOU! _You_ framed me! _You_ killed them! _You_ ruined everything! YouYouYouYou YOU!"_

"_Ah yes," He speaks perfectly as though I had not touched him, "It was me indeed, but you are at fault just as much as he is. I am merely a product of the darkness in Cloud's heart. If you want to hate anyone, it should not be me, but it should be him and only him. I am Cloud as Cloud is me. I—_we_ killed all those people. It was _us_—with the help of the darkness extracted from your heart. You foolishly hid it by bathing yourself in a world of light. You basked in Zack's light to reassure yourself that you are not what you really are. And, in the process, took away all that he had thus shattered this tawdry world."_

_My grip loosens because I am speechless. The foul words that he pours into my ears are pieces of information I had been unaware of. If not ludicrous, it is crazy. I do not want to believe it, but my brain is soaking it up and my heart is burning yet again. He offers me one last smirk before vanishing, leaving me around in thick tendrils of cold black smoke, and stray feathers with a legion of creatures that breeds off my fear._

_I am lost in my own world and do not bother waking up; not until I feel stinging pressure on my ankle. Then my current events speed back to me. I remember that I am in a room where I can fall into a deeper darkness and never wake up from it. Fear grips me so strongly I am almost at a loss of what to do._

_Instincts move in and replace all logic. I kick the monster out of my way and unsteadily climb to my feet because the floor is still oily from the blood. Miraculously, I stumble to my feet and I run clumsily. Previously, this may have inflicted much damage to my pride, but my trepidation erases all of that. I do not care. Nothing matters as long as I can run and not fall on my face where those feral things can rip my body to a million pieces._

_By a stroke of luck, I make it to the open French windows and tear out into the cold night. The roses are wilting and dying as I streak by and the creatures are still close at my heels, reaching out to take whatever it is I have. Every part of my body is on fire, my lungs covet for respite, but I keep running because I know that if I stop I will die. My desire for revenge and redemption would be for naught. So I run and run and run with my feet hammering against the barren earth until that too fades and I am plunging into a rueful chasm of self-loathing yet again…_

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**/endchapter**

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I have over a hundred readers for this story and only two comments? Come on, people, I know there are a lot of things you're itching to point out, so please don't be shy and tell me what you think.


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